He is wounded. Bahiya was shocked. A white substance oozed from the monster’s side. Someone wounded the urkuun. She was exhilarated. That explains why he did not attack earlier. Who could have done this?
Powerful images rushed at her, images of glory, might, and dominion. She pushed them away by an act of will and focused on the concentrators and the orbs. The images came back relentlessly, tempting, tantalizing, and surrounded her from all sides. They were in her own mind at first, but soon, they crept into her senses. They became visual hallucinations; first blurry, and then all at once in clear, full color. Bahiya could no longer resist, and the urkuun whisked her into a world of light and glory to a makeshift illusion inside of the Arayat. At the last moment, she managed to pull her magical artifacts with her into this Arayatian illusion. Since these objects were created inside the Arayat, they were easier to control here than in the real world. The concentrators are not yet ready. Bahiya knew she had to somehow stall the assault.
She was now the greatest priestess Baal had ever known: Bahiya the Mighty. In every city, loyal subjects placed her effigy in their temples. Everywhere she looked, she saw her glory made manifest in the lives of the multitudes. She had become a goddess to them. Thousands of slaves had built a seven-storied temple of jasper, topaz, and onyx with three gold cupolas and fourteen silver ornate doors, all in her honor. The priestess stood on an esplanade flanked by giant torches that proclaimed her eternal reign, and a great multitude filled a capacious marble plaza in front of her temple. The concentrators, they are almost ready, she thought breathless. I must keep them in orbit. She waved at the throng of people and knew that she was the cause of their joy. An evildoer had been desecrating the kingdoms of the earth and many heroes had risen and died trying to stop him. They had all failed. Only her might and wisdom could stop his tyranny. With one imperial move, she struck him down and forced him to kneel before her, bound in heavy iron chains.
Bahiya had only to drop her handkerchief, and the executioner’s sword would end the life of the miserable creature that dared to challenge her reign of peace and justice. He awaited her signal. She looked contemptuously at the malfeasant and was about to let go of her handkerchief when he raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were full of sorrow as if asking, “Why?” She gasped. The creature was no other than Ahiram. “No,” screamed Bahiya. She was thrown out of the hallucination and was now back in the room of the fortress. At that very moment, however, the urkuun became aware of her secret relationship with Ahiram. At last! The concentrators are ready, she thought. Immediately, she released them from her control, grabbed Tanios and they both dropped to the ground.
The concentrators hurtled toward the orbs and the four devices collided in a decimating explosion. A blinding light filled the expansive cave, leveling the pillars and pulverizing the dining table. A wave of fire erased the carpet the way a wave on the beach washes away footprints. Oddly, a platter of meat flew up and landed intact before the two dumbfounded dwarfs. The Arayatian energy Bahiya had just released shattered reality. The ground reeled and sundered as a massive fungus sprouted, and turned to stone. The fortress’ ground crumbled to dust, and from this dust, a pool of dark water emerged threatening to swallow Tanios and Bahiya. Climbing vines quickly crept from the waters and covered anything that was left standing, killing any sylveeds who had not managed to escape. Half the walls boiled and became lava, while the other half froze under thick ice. Lightning and thunder filled the air. Tanios and Bahiya were thrown out of the pool, and its water instantly evaporated. A subterranean force sucked in the temple’s floor and walls crumbled.
The urkuun, clapped his hands and sneered, “Did you not know priestess that your cheap tricks have no effect on creatures of the Pit?”
The orbs and concentrators appeared before him. With a flick of his hand, he neutralized Bahiya’s attack. The climbing vines, lava, and ice all vanished, and the storm was over as suddenly as it had started.
He took the bait, she thought.
My turn, thought Tanios. He quickly produced two crossbows, drew the darts, aimed and released. To pull attention away from the darts, he shouted as he released them, “May El rebuke you, we humbly pray.” To the commander’s surprise, the urkuun reeled under an invisible blow.
“Say this little prayer when you see the monster, Commander,” Master Habael had instructed. “Do it for me.”
There you go old friend, thought Tanios. I did what you asked and delivered a small gift, courtesy of the Silent Corps.
The wall behind the urkuun exploded.
Perfect timing, Tanios, thought Bahiya. You prevented the urkuun from destroying the concentrators. Well done.
Tanios grabbed her hand and they bolted toward the exit. They were about to exit the cave when the urkuun bellowed and both of them fell in sheer terror. They managed to look back and saw a gray light flowing from the concentrators into the creature’s chest. The monster wailed with pain and struggled to free itself.
“What is going on?” yelled Tanios.
Bahiya smiled. “The best way to fight an urkuun is with an urkuun.”
The last time she had used these concentrators, the monster had attacked Hiyam in the Game of Gold, and she had asked Tamri, the Adorant, for help. Neither of them had realized they were contending with an urkuun. Back then, Tamri had used eight absorbers to deflect the attack, but the energy had been too much to bear. Desperately, Bahiya had directed the overflow of energy back into the concentrators and unwittingly charged them with the creature’s own power.
“To stop my magic,” she explained, “he absorbed the explosion. The concentrators are blind objects. Once energy flows out of them, it is impossible to stop it, so the concentrators are tearing through his insides.”
“Can you breezily breathe my brotherly brother?” whispered Zurwott.
Orwutt nodded his head. He could not speak. The last few moments had been horrific beyond any measure, but something had changed and the hold of the beast on their consciousness weakened. “As they say in the common tongue,” added Zurwott, “It is now or not now.”
“You mean, now or never, my brotherly brother,” corrected Orwutt. “Let us be done with this maddening madness.”
The urkuun staggered forward but managed to remain standing. We must force him out of the fortress, thought Tanios, but how? In the eerie silence they heard a heavy iron chain slide off of metallic rings.
Am I terrified? Or am I going mad? Tanios wondered. Then he heard the awful moan of stone under unbearable pressure, and he glanced up just as the marble ceiling began to cave in. The stone columns that suspended the enormous marble slabs could not keep them in place without the chains. Mustering all his will and strength, Tanios leaped to his feet and grabbed Bahiya. Together, they staggered out of the hall and took shelter behind a large column when the ceiling collapsed and crashed to the floor. Stone shards showered the room in a deadly blast. The walls of the cave, weakened from Bahiya’s magic and Tanios’ explosive darts, could no longer resist. They fractured. The urkuun shrieked in rage. The walls exploded, creating a chain reaction. Multiple caves were leveled, entombing legions of sylveeds. The outer walls of the fortress severed and crumbled. A huge gaping hole exposed the inside of the fortress like a wound in the side of a giant beast.
Orwutt hung in midair by a rope and Zurwott held onto his brother’s feet. Without waiting for the rope to stop swinging, Zurwott climbed over his brother, reached the rope, and continued to climb as quickly as possible. Orwutt followed him inside the small cave and they inched their way forward, back into the tunnel. Debris partially blocked it, but the dwarfs managed to snake their way through. They heard and felt a powerful explosion come from the larger cave. They heard but did not see the urkuun, wings deployed, crawl out from underneath the rubble with a deafening roar and dive outside.
Now, the battle begins, thought Orwutt. A battle someone else must win.
“Words are like dead leaves that wither and are forgotten; th
ey are inadequate to describe the supernal depth of human love. Deeds speak plainly. They lodge themselves firmly in our hearts and bear fruit aplenty: undying hope and treasures of beauty.”
–Memoirs of Shalimar the Poet.
After Tanios and Bahiya left camp in the company of the Silent, Lord Orgond staggered his men on the northeastern hillsides directly opposite from the Fortress of Hardeen. They spent the next two days fortifying their camp across this plain. Large ditches were dug and lined with rows of protective spikes long enough to break the stride of a galloping horse. The soldiers toiled without rest despite the fetid smell rising from the charred remnants of homes and barns that littered the landscape.
On the morning of the third day, Lord Orgond took counsel with Master Habael, Master Xurgon, and Uziguzi to review the situation.
“Something troubles me,” confessed Uziguzi. “If I were the urkuun, what would compel me to attack now?”
Xurgon nodded approvingly. “I would not movingly move my forces unless my foe was within view.”
“Ahiram, you mean?”
Uziguzi disagreed. “The ninth urkuun is called the Seducer because he trusts his own power above all else. He favors submission and adulation over the clanging of weapons and shouts of war.”
Addressing Uziguzi by his formal title, Master Habael added, “Wise assessment indeed, Lord Jar. I expect an envoy from our foe to come with a formal offer of capitulation. Having you, Lord Orgond, submit willingly to the monster would redound on his conflated sense of honor.”
Lord Orgond agreed. “It is one thing if Orgond, Lord of Hardeen and Steward of the Broken Sheath of El-Windeer, bows down before the urkuun, and quite another if Gaëla, Heiress to the throne of the Empyreans, submits to the monster of Baal, don’t you think?”
They nodded in agreement. “I can see the hand of Sharr in this matter,” commented Uziguzi. “I knew him even before he joined the Temple, and he has not wavered from the path he chose to follow after the death of his sister. Back then he was a captain of the High Riders stationed in Mycene, and he had quite foolishly provoked the ire of the Empyreans by setting foot on their beach with three thousand soldiers. Because of his pride he thought the Empyreans would negotiate first. Tragically, he miscalculated and saw his forces mowed down. He managed to escape with less than one hundred soldiers. His twin sister died at the hands of the Empyreans, and he has never forgiven them. This would be a fitting way to avenge her and may help explain why he would unleash such a monster.”
“Insightful Empyrean advising advisor,” replied Master Xurgon. “We dwarfs have had our daring dealings with the Empyreans, but only a foolish fool would cross over to their land and expect to survive.”
“Foolish, indeed,” added Master Habael, “and if the hand of Sharr is behind this, we must remain vigilant. He has a keen mind and tend to think several steps ahead of the rest.”
“When should we expect the Empyrean forces?” asked Lord Orgond. “Princess Gaëla left us a few days back. I expected her to be here by now.”
“Indeed,” sighed Uziguzi.
“Her delay is concerning me. I will fear the worst if she is not back here by tomorrow.”
Orgond rose to his feet and grabbed his helmet. “Well then, I had better join my soldiers. The children of Tanniin will do all in their power so that in days ahead, the name of Amsheet remains a beacon of hope and not a source of shame.”
The urkuun stood by the sylveedian pool, a wide hole where the waters of the Arayat bubbled and flowed. He used the caliginous water to accelerate the transformation of his victims into sylveeds. The monster’s features were accentuated in the fluorescent green light seeping from the pool, and the sylveeds around him cowered in fear. They hid in the darkest corners of the wide cave, deep below the fortress’ complex. A lone figure emerged from the pool. Unafraid, Sharr stepped out of the murky green liquid and faced the creature of the Pit.
“What does the master of Baal command?” asked the urkuun in a soft sultry voice that betrayed no emotions.
Sharr waved his hand with an annoyed expression. “Do not mock me, creature,” he snarled. “I am not one to be toyed with.”
“Far be it for the Seducer to toy with the master of Baal,” replied the beast. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
“How many sylveeds have you produced?”
The urkuun was bound to speak the truth since the curses Sureï the Sorcerer had used to shackle the urkuun forced the beast to obey the current high priest of Babylon. “Twenty thousand strong.”
“That many?” replied Sharr, surprised. “How did you do it?”
“Humans, dwarfs, and Empyreans expose their vices the way dung is exposed by its smell. They come to me faster than I can transform them. You think it is too many? I think it is too little. Once I leave these walls, I will show you the true meaning of power.”
“You will bind and deliver the Seer to me, unharmed. Then, you will defeat the Empyreans and you will bring me the head of their empress on a platter.” The urkuun chuckled, producing a sound similar to the screech that iron sheered by iron produces: strident, loud, and mind numbing. Witnessing this sound coming from the mouth of the urkuun, Sharr smiled while anyone else would have screamed. He raised his left hand and gestured rapidly. With a moan of pain, the urkuun bent one knee. “I am happy to know that my command amuses you, but do not forget to whom you owe obedience. Stray from my orders and I will show you the real strength of the curses Sureï used to bind you. You may be of the Pit, but the Temple rules the Pit.”
By the time the urkuun straightened his posture, the sylveedian pool was as still as a dead man’s face. Sharr was nowhere to be seen.
Ahiram pushed his horse faster. He was eager to get to Hardeen. The life of many hung at the edge of his sword and every minute he delayed was counted in blood. He knew what he had to do and he was ready. Noraldeen was saddled behind him, her hands around the waist of the man she loved. Like the others, she was taken aback when they had found him sleeping peacefully after the two giant flames that sprang from his chest had vanished.
“What are you doing in my room?” he had asked, visibly confused. “Is breakfast ready?”
Noraldeen had helped him up and hugged him fiercely. He held her against him. The others left them alone.
“Ahiram, I am so sorry,” she said. “I should not have told you about your family, not like that. Please forgive me.”
He pulled her gently away and gazed in her eyes, a wry smile on his face. “I want to thank you for telling me.” Noraldeen took a breath to speak. “No, let me finish. It was devastating, the worst thing I have ever heard, but when Sheheluth told me I was a sormoss—”
“Yes, you told me already.”
“She is right you know. When I’m angry, I think it is my right to attack, like when I attacked Olothe.”
Noraldeen bristled at the name. “He deserved his punishment.”
Ahiram shook his head. “No, Nora. That was no punishment. What I did to him was evil. I was angry and believed I had the right to break him. When Sheheluth told me what I was, it tormented me. Well, I was already worried even before she told me.”
“Worried? Worried about what?”
He averted her eyes.
“About hurting you. I was afraid that in one of my fits of anger, I would strike you. Then you told me about my parents. The news hit me like a giant fist. My anger flared, but then … just then, I knew that no matter how angry I become, I would never hurt you.”
“So, you conquered your anger?”
Ahiram shook his head. “No, Nora. You did. I had this dream, this strange, powerful dream, something about a choice. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember the end. I chose what you wanted because I trust you more than I trust myself.”
She looked at him tenderly. “So what are you saying then?”
“I don’t know what the future holds, I don’t know if I will survive this beast. All I know is that I am happy, so
very happy because I met you, Noraldeen, daughter of Lord Orgond. I don’t want to lose you … ever.”
“And you won’t. I will always be by your side.”
Ahiram was fully healed. And he now felt rejuvenated and strengthened. As they watched him eat ravenously, his friends felt overjoyed and awed, hopeful and fearful, the way mariners feel aboard a ship cresting a storm—fleeting atop a giant wave between the howling maw of a vengeful sea and the dark furies of an implacable sky.
He ate and laughed at them, as if he himself belonged to that great storm that toyed with the ship of their hopes. Or rather, as if he were that storm, surging forward to conquer their fear to show them a world they had never dared to imagine.
As they moved swiftly forward to Hardeen, toward the battle, Ahiram coaxed his horse with the vulpine impatience of a lion on a blood trail.
They looked like they were watching a ghost, and he made fun of them. It was unbelievable to see him sitting and talking among them, and then to declare he was anxious to get to Hardeen. Yet there they were, moving swiftly toward the fortress, toward the battlefront. Unlike the others, Noraldeen stopped questioning, stopped trying to find answers. She had been witness to Ahiram’s choice, and now she too had a choice to make. She had thought him dead, yet he was alive. She knew he was the holder of a hidden power, but she also knew that her love for him was an even greater force, one that would embolden him to fight until the end. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. An old song came to her mind and she wondered why this particular song, one that spoke of separation and forgetfulness, came to her.
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 54